by Mike Dunn
Carl was once an artist. His masterpieces could
be found on nearly every cave wall in northwest Pangea. He was tragically
eaten by a saber tooth tiger one balmy afternoon.
Carl was once a gladiator. His name was chanted by hundreds of thousands
of bloodthirsty fans in the Coliseum. He was tragically eaten when Caesar
sent in the lions one balmy afternoon.
Carl was once a Mayan mathematician. His contributions helped develop the
concept of zero, which is what was left of him after he was tragically eaten
by a puma one balmy afternoon.
Carl was once a powerful aristocrat. His very presence exuded sophistication
and superiority. He was tragically eaten by a pack of cougars that had escaped
from a traveling circus one balmy afternoon. Carl was once an African warrior.
His leadership and bravery made him a legend across the Serengeti. He was
tragically eaten by a cheetah who knew nothing of his legend one balmy afternoon.
Carl was once an animal rights activist. His love for all things living helped shape organizations like PETA that strive to stop animal cruelty.
He was tragically eaten by a panther he was rescuing from poachers one balmy afternoon.
Five year old Carl sat at a table one balmy afternoon. His mother made her way
into the room carrying something swaddled in her arms. The woman showed the boy
a kitten she had found barely clinging to life. Carl could only sit back, place
hand to chin, and wait for the inevitable.